


The Morning After the Night Before

by Bold_as_Brass



Series: Run To You [3]
Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hangover, Humor, M/M, Post-Scorpia Rising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 05:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8521045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bold_as_Brass/pseuds/Bold_as_Brass
Summary: Alex wasn't sure what had happened last night, but he was almost certain Yassen wasn't his boyfriend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A snippet from the same universe as Don't Need a Gun and Hide and Seek.

Alex woke not knowing where he was; that wasn’t unusual, what was unusual was how he felt. At first he thought he had been attacked. Attacked and beaten to an inch of his life. He was cold and shivery and his head felt as though it had been split open and filled with cement. But he was lying in a bed, not an alley. He groped around and found his phone beneath a pillow. It told him he was in England and it was almost midday.

  
Not daring to sit up he rolled his eyes sideways as far as they would go. He was in a budget hotel. He recognised the chain by the pictures on the walls. His clothes were slung across the floor and he was wearing just a T shirt and a pair of shorts. He rolled his eyes the other way and caught sight of an empty bottle of vodka on the bedside table. Seeing it, memory came flooding back and he groaned.

_Yassen._

He had been staying in a run-down sea side resort trying to identify the members of a criminal gang rumoured to be using a casino as a front for money laundering. He’d had little success. It was the low season and the town was half dead. Any criminal worth their salt would be trying their luck in Monte Carlo, or Las Vegas or Macau. On the fifth night Yassen had appeared with his customary suddenness. Alex had been sitting in an empty bus shelter facing the casino, keeping watch on the comings and goings. His feet were numb and he’d seen no one enter all night but the bar staff. One minute he was alone. In the next, a low voice in his ear had suggested he abandon his post and come for a drink. He had refused that offer, but when Yassen had returned half an hour later with a bottle of vodka, his resolve had wavered.

Now it was morning and Yassen had gone, abandoning Alex to deal with a very bad morning indeed. It was tempting to stay in bed and pray his headache would ease but his mouth was as dry as dust. He eased himself to his feet and felt the room rotate about him. He barely made it to the bathroom before he began to retch. It was though all the sins of a past life were leaving his body at once.

Afterwards he lay on the bathroom floor and groaned. The first he knew of Yassen’s return was when a voice spoke from the bathroom door.

“Congratulations, you have your first grown up hangover.”

Alex didn’t look up. Moving made his head spin. “I want to die.”

“It will pass.” Yassen stepped over his prone body and sat on the side of the bath. He was wearing work out gear and a pair of trainers. But for the faint shadows beneath his eyes Alex would have thought he’d had eight hours sleep followed by a bracing run along the sea front. “Think of it as a life lesson.”

“What lesson?” he said wearily.

“Never play drinking games with a Russian.”

Alex pressed his cheek to the cool tiles of floor and prayed he wasn’t going to be sick again. Bad enough that Yassen should see him like this, he didn't think his pride could stand puking up his guts under that cool blue stare. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“That is the second lesson. I’m not your handler, Alex. You’re old enough to make your own mistakes.”

“If you’ve just come to gloat, you might as well leave now and let me die in peace.”

“I’m not gloating.” Yassen indicated a plastic bag at his feet. “See? I bought you breakfast.”

He felt his stomach roil in rebellion. “I don’t want it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Why, what is it?”

“Coke and some plain biscuits.”

Alex changed his mind. A Coke might be the one thing which would ease the pounding in his head. “Really?”

“Really. Aren’t I a good boyfriend?”

Alex wiped his mouth on his T-shirt and summoned the strength to sit up. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

Yassen’s eyes narrowed. He moved the bag fractionally away. “You don’t want the Coke?”

“I want the Coke. You’re still not my boyfriend.”

“Last night you said I was your boyfriend.”

“Last night I was blind drunk.”

“You said I was your boyfriend and that I should kiss every part of your body,” Yassen continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

Alex sighed. “Please can I have the Coke?”

Yassen relented and handed the bottle to him. “Small sips,” he advised.

Alex sipped. He waited an anxious minute then sipped again. “And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Kiss me.” He would have blushed, but his body was too dehydrated to muster the extra blood flow.

“Of course,” said Yassen as though the answer should be obvious. “Now a biscuit.”

Alex took one and nibbled. To his relief it stayed down. He had another mouthful of Coke and felt a little more human. “Go on. What else should I know?”

Yassen's expression didn't change but his head tilted in enquiry. “You don’t remember anything at all?”

“Nothing after the bus shelter.”

Yassen considered. “Well then you said you wanted to kiss every part of _my_ body.”

Alex groaned. Why did this always happen to him. “And did I?”

“You tried. But then you passed out, so I put you to bed with a glass of water and a bucket.”

“Oh.” He wondered if he should apologise but after all, the vodka had been Yassen’s idea.

“Do you want to wash?”

The question came out of nowhere, and he realised he must stink. “Yes.” He tried to stand. The room spun. “No.” He sat down again.

“Yes.” Yassen caught him beneath the elbow. “Come on. I will help you. Up.”

This time Alex made it to his feet. Every joint in his body felt as though it had been wrenched from its socket. “What have I done to my back?” he said as they hobbled towards the shower.

“You fell off the table,” said Yassen, half supporting, half steering him.

“Do I want to know?”

“You were dancing.”

“Were you dancing too?” he said, without much hope.

Yassen’s upper lip twitched. “No. You wanted me to watch.”

Alex closed his eyes and resolved never to ask.


End file.
